<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>sillage by zinzidee</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26795905">sillage</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/zinzidee/pseuds/zinzidee'>zinzidee</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>ATEEZ (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 07:02:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26795905</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/zinzidee/pseuds/zinzidee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>sillage. french. (n.) the scent that lingers in air, the trail left in water, the impression made in space after something or someone has been and gone; the trace of someone’s perfume.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Park Seonghwa/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>sillage</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>---<br/>
“You were you,<br/>
and I was I;<br/>
we were two,<br/>
before our time.<br/>
I was yours,<br/>
before I knew;<br/>
and you have always<br/>
been mine too.”<br/>
-Lang Leav, <i>Love &amp; Misadventure</i><br/>
---<br/>
1.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Seonghwa looks up at the deceiving sun, the morning cold pinching his reddening cheeks and nose. Hearing his name being called, he turns to face the culprit. A fellow student of his motions for Seonghwa to come over, bending the tips of his fingers to mimic a camera. Seonghwa is not surprised. Other than the few group projects and exchanged nods in the hallways, he has rarely engaged with this student. As he slowly walks over, he notices the student whispering in his mother’s ear. He knew that the student’s parents were going to ask him where his parents were—he especially despised the expressions of pity that were turned on the minute he told them they had passed away when he was young. He wished for this all to be over, to be holding his guitar, to be singing one of the many songs he has created over the years.<br/><br/>“Were your parents not able to make it?” the mom asks. Her expression shows that she is ready for a certain answer, ready to pity him to feel better about herself.<br/><br/>Seonghwa hesitates. Deciding that he has had enough with the selfish pity, he lies. “Yes, unfortunately. They had too much work to deal with,” he replies, tightening his lips into a forced smile.<br/><br/>She nods, feeding into his lie. She then motions for Seonghwa to come into the middle, with her on one side and her son on the other. Before he can say anything, she presses a flower from her son’s bouquet into his free hand, smiling up at him. Looping her arm through his, she pats his hand and smiles into the waiting camera. So this is what it feels like to take a family picture.<br/><br/>Once the picture taking is over, she tries to persuade Seonghwa into eating lunch with them, but before she can even finish her sentence, Seonghwa politely declines.<br/><br/>“My parents wanted me to come straight home after the ceremony,” he explains. He turns to the student, smiles tightly, and turns to leave.<br/><br/>“What kind of parents can’t even find the time to make it to their kid’s graduation ceremony?” Seonghwa hears the mom say as he walks away.<br/><br/>Seonghwa quickens his steps, eager to be in the safety and comfort of his room. He tosses the flower into the nearest trash can, along with the last remaining bit of hope he had for his day being a good one.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>